


rope-a-dope

by shikae (39smooth)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Real Steel!AU, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/39smooth/pseuds/shikae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Real Steel!AU. Lu Han is a disgraced ex-botfighter who just needs a little push to get back in the ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rope-a-dope

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 30 Day OTP Challenge that I never completed. Swearing, lots of crack, and robots. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for a list of boxing terms and jargon used in the story.](http://pinodyne.livejournal.com/1449.html)

“ _And in the red corner!_ ” screams the announcer into the mic hanging from the ceiling; the crowd goes wild and the lights in the cramped little arena rapidly flash white and yellow. “Three-time Pata League champion and all-around fan favourite, _Kicker!_ ”

Rumbling onto the lifted platform, a gleaming blue robot streaked with red flames incites even more screams from the small albeit loud audience. It’s tall and sleek and gorgeous, and Lu Han scowls at it from his corner of the platform, eyes narrowing as he attempts to search out weak spots in its design.

His bot, a hulking mass of fractured steel, is lacking in the aesthetics department, but Lu Han is confident his bot can take out anything that steps in its way. He made sure of it, after the last time his bot got trashed by Jongdae’s. Lu Han spent days holed up in Wu Fan’s workshop, grumbling at his bot’s terrible reflexes and redesigning all the commands to shorter combinations.

“Hey, pretty boy! Ready to lose?” leers the loser behind Kicker.  _What a fucking coward_ , thinks Lu Han, sitting behind a computer screen watching stats roll up and down as if this were some video game. He can hear the announcer calling his bot’s name, the word ‘ _Chump!_ ’ ringing through the air.

 _This is so much more_ , he thinks, and Lu Han bites back, “I’m ready to take your money, that’s what!” He adjusts his headset, brings the mic closer to his mouth, and waits for the announcer to start the match. The second the bell goes off with a loud ‘ting!’ Lu Han is already screaming, “Jab, one-two combo, parry, jab,  _uppercut that motherfucker!_ ”

The loser in the red corner shrieks, watching his bot crumple against the ropes barely twenty seconds in.

Lu Han bares his teeth in satisfaction, and rambles off another set of punches.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re on a roll this month,” comments Yixing, watching Lu Han stuff the thick wad of hundred-dollar bills into the back pocket of his jeans. He glances up at Chump, who’s looking only a little beat up, thanks to the weld job Lu Han had begged their mechanic into doing a couple of weeks ago, and says, “You sure you don’t want to enter the championships this year? You and Chump could deal some damage to those major league bots.”

“No,” says Lu Han stubbornly, because there’s no way in hell Yixing is persuading him to enter the Major League Fighter Championships this year, or any year for that matter, after what happened in 2015 during the semifinals. Lu Han winces slightly, bringing to mind the memory of himself on his knees, practically wailing at his bot back then—Voltage Query—to get the fuck up, and the opponent had slammed its fist into his bot’s head, completely taking it off. Wu Fan had charged him extra for fixing that. Even Minseok’s homemade steamed buns couldn’t wipe the upset look off his face that night. The constant humiliation that followed the night had lasted months.

And Lu Han really doesn’t want to go through all of that again.

Behind them, Chump follows with steady steps, mimicking Lu Han’s movements to a T. It’s got its shadow function on, something that Wu Fan had installed in the bot years ago when he’d seen some documentary of a small boy with a shadow boxer beating one of the major league bots. He’d gifted the bot to Lu Han two years ago due to the fact that they needed some quick cash to sustain the workshop, and Lu Han was the swiftest fighter they had on the team. He would punch, jump, dodge, whatever, and the bot would do the same, as long as it was looking at him. It shadowed him, basically. Lu Han had liked how it worked, and since then, Chump’s been Lu Han’s only bot.

“By the way, K are coming back home tomorrow,” says Yixing, and Lu Han glances up in interest. EXO-K, the other half to their fight team of EXO-M, on the road for practically seven months out of a year. “Dinner at the workshop, as usual.”

“Finally,” mutters Lu Han, “they’ve been away for way too long.”  _Jongin’s been away for way too long_ , is what he really means, but fuck if he’s going to admit that to Yixing anytime soon.

 

 

 

 

 

“Eat more rice,” says Wu Fan, and before anyone can say otherwise, he’s scooped about three more spoons worth onto Joonmyun’s plate, and two extra pieces of egg onto Sehun’s, and some more salad on top of Chanyeol’s—

“It’s okay!” says Baekhyun eventually, seeing the amount of porridge in everyone’s bowls. “You don’t have to stuff us to death everytime we get back, Wu Fan.”

Wu Fan pauses with his chopsticks hovering over the beef. “But you guys look stick thin. I’m not taking any of it! Joonmyun, what have you been feeding these kids? Tsk.” And Baekhyun gets an extra serving of broccoli for his words, not daring to say anything against it in fear of the infamous Wu Fan scowl.

Jongdae swallows a mouthful of rice, and pipes up, “So, now that we’re all fed and watered, thanks to Wu Fan here, as fantastic a cook as he is a mechanic, let’s hear what you all have been up to!”

Most of the M team lean forward, expecting to hear stories of victorious fights, but Joonmyun just stabs at a piece of meat on his plate, and mumbles, “We’ve had more losses than wins, actually.”

“Yeah,” admits Chanyeol sheepishly; he’s the best brawler in K, and his win tally comes in only second to Jongin’s, overall fourth in the whole of the group. “Down on luck, I suppose.” He spoons more porridge into his mouth and ignores the red creeping up his face.

“And what of you guys?” asks Jongin, who’s plunked down in the seat beside Lu Han, and he steals a bit of egg from Minseok before continuing, “I heard that M’s been doing great in the inner rings, recently.”

“That true?” Baekhyun’s surprised, as usual; K is always surprised when M does well, since the home scene isn’t much compared to the scene K gets on the road. “Who and who?”

“Minseok and Baozi pulled in three thousand from one fight, Zitao and Air Stripes another four,” says Jongdae, reading off the little notebook he keeps in his pocket at all times. As M’s fight booky, he’s responsible for keeping track of their profits and losses. “And Lu Han’s been great with Chump, seventy-three thousand in the past month.”

Joonmyun chokes on his rice; Yixing calmly pats him on the back. “We barely made half of what Lu Han’s got.”

“My fault, sorry,” says Jongin, and there’s a slight disappointed look on his face. “I haven’t been up to par recently.” Jongin’s the best fighter on the K team, and he’s the one who usually brings in the profit, besides Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.

“It’s okay,” says Wu Fan, “you know what I always say—“

“As long as there’s rice on the table and bots in the shop, we’re fine,” choruses the entire table, and Wu Fan rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at the other eleven men.

Lu Han nudges Jongin, and whispers in his ear, “Practice later, as usual?”

“Ten sharp,” replies Jongin, and there’s a familiar glint in his eye that Lu Han’s missed. Everytime K comes back from wherever they’ve gone off to, the two of them always sneak away to the practice ring downstairs, and talk strategy, tactics, and even pit their own bots against each other. It’s a nice routine, Jongin would hate to break it.

“Bring Hardhead?” And Jongin nods; Hardhead is Lu Han’s favourite sparring bot, who’s been travelling with K for the past four months. Lu Han finishes his plate, laughs at a joke that Zitao makes, and slips away into the dark.

 

 

 

 

 

_Jongin remembers the first time he met Lu Han._

_“This butterfly valve is fucked,” came Lu Han’s muffled voice from inside the main body of Jongin’s bot, in for repairs at the workshop. Wu Fan had been off on errands, so Lu Han had taken over for a day or two. Jongin had just returned from a bad fight in the semis of one of the minor leagues a few miles over, and was strapped for cash. Luckily, a friend of his had mentioned the EXO workshop, whose owner did cheap but great repairs. “What’s your name, kid?”_

_Jongin had scowled; he was eighteen, but hated people calling him kid. He answered anyway, “Kai.”_

_“Oh,” came the man’s voice. He pulled his head out of the bot and smiled. “I’m Lu Han. I’ve heard of you before; your fights have become sort of an urban legend around these parts. Flashy as hell, those fights of yours.” Nice smile, thought Jongin for a second, and he shook the thought away._

_“Hope that’s a good thing,” said Jongin, and Lu Han had chuckled, flipping the circuit board of the bot shut. “You’re the one from the last major league, right? Who came in seventh? Voltage Query?”_

_“Yeah,” said Lu Han, and he scrunched his nose. “Lousy last fight, that was.” He turned back to the bot sitting on the work table, and bent over to check its battery. Jongin resisted the urge to look at Lu Han’s ass. Nope—didn’t work; Jongin’s eyes trailed down the lithe figure before him, very much appreciatively. As Lu Han straightened up again, Jongin discreetly redirected his gaze to something else—photographs along the walls of the workshop. “So, you looking to get into the home scene?”_

_“Looking for a team,” admitted Jongin, and it was partly true. He couldn’t afford to upkeep a bot, fighting solo, and he didn’t dare dream of giving it up. He glanced back at the photos again. Some of them were of bots, some of the fighters themselves. There was a group picture at the very middle. A familiar smile shone from behind the glass panel._

_The same smile reappeared in front of him. “Well, you’re in luck then. EXO—this workshop, has a fight team as well, and we’re looking for members.”_

_Jongin remembers the very moment he joined EXO._

_“Great,” Jongin had exclaimed, “you’re great, this is great, thank you so much, great, great, great.”_

_Lu Han grinned, this time a little more teasing, a little wilder. “You’re gonna have to prove you’re good enough first, though.”_

_Jongin’s eyes sparked. He’d always loved a good challenge._

 

 

 

 

 

It’s barely a week after K’s returned, but already it feels like how it’s always been—loud, homey, and just a little bit gritty, no thanks to oil drips all over the floor of the workshop and no one bothering to clean them up (“If I see one more stain,” bellowed Wu Fan, and Kyungsoo squeaked, nearly dropping a bottle of cleaning fluid).

Then, Lu Han storms in one morning, a piece of paper crumpled in his grasp. “Who the fuck signed me up?”

Wu Fan stares at him, halfway in the middle of testing Baozi’s new gears. “Signed you up for what?”

“The major  _fucking_ league,” grits out Lu Han, and the volume in the room drops immediately. Everyone knows about Lu Han’s aversion to the competition. Signing him up without his knowledge is like signing your own death certificate. Lu Han stomps over to the edge of the ring where most of them are sitting, and brandishes the torn piece of paper in their faces. “There’s a no withdraw rule. Might as well just one-two combo me now.”

Yixing begins carefully, “Well, maybe it won’t be too bad. You and Chump are pretty unstoppable right now.”

“Yeah,” says Chanyeol, “it might do us some good. Might do you some good too, put you back on the national leaderboard.” He doesn’t notice the effect his words have on half of the group though; Lu Han stiffens noticeably, and Jongin winces, along with Wu Fan, Yixing and Joonmyun. Sehun sighs quietly.

“Fuck the national leaderboard, I don’t want to see that thing ever again,” hisses Lu Han, and he throws his hands up in defeat. “You know what? Fine. But fuck if I’m ever trusting you guys again.” His steps are thunderous as he heads upstairs.

Silence.

Yixing whacks the back of Chanyeol’s head. “Insensitive, much?”

Chanyeol yelps, and rubs his head, frowning. “What did I do? What about the leaderboards anyway? It was just an innocent comment.”

“Leaderboards are fine.” Jongin’s mouth is set in a hard line. “But never mention the  _national_  leaderboard, because it’s a lousy reminder that he used to be on it.  _Used to_.”

His words sink in, and Chanyeol swallows. “Whoops.”

“Lu Han was a great fighter,” murmurs Sehun, glancing up at the wall of photographs, still there after years and years. “He still is.”

Lu Han’s beaming face stands out in one of the photographs, and he stands proudly in front of one of his old bots. In his hands is the Major League Fighter Championship cup, dated 2013. It’s 2019 now, and the workshop hasn’t seen a single trophy since that year.  _And what a year it was_ , thinks Yixing fondly, remembering the sweat and blood and tears— but mainly the blood and tears though, because Jongdae decided to grift some unsuspecting viewers at the tournament, and they broke his nose as a thank you for taking all their money.

It could be called a fall, maybe, but Lu Han’s been rising back up again, slowly, but surely. Yixing had been hoping for him to be talked into rejoining the championships in a couple of years, after he’d built his reputation back up again, but this is just calling for severe damage. He doesn’t know what Lu Han will do now. His temper barely gets ahead of him, but when he’s angry, he’s capable of getting  _seriously angry_.

Jongin stands up. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“You do that,” says Wu Fan wearily, and they watch Jongin tread cautiously upstairs, before Wu Fan turns back to the practice ring and says, “Okay, Baekhyun, your bot’s next—yes, bring him here—what do you mean he’s run dry? I just replaced his battery a year ago.  _Byun Baekhyun_.”

“I can barely handle K on the road, how does he manage all of you?” asks Joonmyun with a slight bit of awe in his voice, and Yixing just shrugs, watching Wu Fan chuck a loose bolt at Baekhyun’s head.

 

 

 

 

 

_“Right now, our team’s made up of seven people. We’re looking to expand it a bit more, but till then, this is us.” Lu Han had brought Jongin up to one of the photos on the wall, and he pointed out a face everytime he mentioned a name. “Me here, Jongdae’s our booky, Yixing’s our trainer, Joonmyun manages the team, Minseok is another one of our fighters, Wu Fan’s our mechanic and the one who runs this workshop, and Kyungsoo is another fighter, and assistant mechanic.” Lu Han grinned at him over his shoulder. “And you make eight.”_

_“Four fighters, a mechanic, a trainer, and a booky.” Jongin hummed. “Sounds good. Although, I do know this other guy, who’s a great swarmer…”_

_“Tell you what.” Lu Han tossed him a headset. “Run me through some of your best fights, and I’ll see what I can do.”_

_They picked up Sehun a week later, and Lu Han bought Jongin dinner for finding Yixing a new sparring partner._

_“Pit two swarmers together and you could just watch them for hours,” commented Lu Han over fish burgers and fries, and Jongin just nodded. He’d rather watch Lu Han for hours instead._

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin finds Lu Han upstairs, taking swings at an old punching bag. His feet are light on the ground, fists constantly at eye level, as if expected to get swung at in return. His gaze is trained on the target, and his jabs are fast and furious.

For all his looks, Lu Han is one of the best real hybrid boxers Jongin’s seen in a long time. His strikes are nimble, but there’s power behind them. He’s fought Lu Han before, but only with bots. He knows that if he ever went up against Lu Han, gloves and gear alone, he’d lose within a lightning second. The only person in the group that could possibly beat Lu Han in a real fight would be Yixing, the only other ex-boxer on the team. Yixing’s career-life was a lot shorter than Lu Han’s though, but he makes a great trainer now.

“Hey, don’t start on all that ‘they didn’t mean it’ crap,” says Lu Han suddenly, and Jongin’s jerked from his thoughts. “I know they didn’t mean it. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” He throws a heavy left hook at the punching bag, and growls. “Fuck.”

Jongin stands at the entrance to the attic-slash-gym. “They didn’t mean it,” he says, just to get a rise out of him.

Lu Han ceases his punching, and glances at Jongin, before quirking his lips up in a crooked smile. “Come here.”

Cautiously, Jongin approaches Lu Han, and it’s only when Jongin is standing directly in front of Lu Han that the man asks, “When you look at me, do you see a washed-up ex-boxer, or a disgraced bot-fighter?”

“I see neither of those. A winner, perhaps,” replies Jongin, and Lu Han rolls his eyes at the tacky statement. “I’m serious. I honestly do think that you could, and you will, win the championships this year.”

Lu Han shakes his head. “My days are long gone. It’s the modern age now. Tell me, who fights with headsets or remote controls, these days? Now, it’s all techies and computer whizzes on the scene. No more real fights. Computers analyzing the best moves, predicting the opponent’s next set of combos. What’s there to win? What’s there to prove?”

“Prove to yourself that you’re not a coward,” says Jongin, because he’s fucking tired of hearing the same old excuses over and over again. “Prove to them that real fights are still alive. Prove to me that you’re still the Lu Han I know, the Lu Han who would smile all sweet and then spit in your face a minute later, the Lu Han who would claw his way to the end of the fight, no matter how tough.”

“God, you make me sound like some kind of ancient Greek hero,” says Lu Han, but Jongin can see the twitch in the corner of his lips, and he knows he’s gotten through to Lu Han. “Fine, fine. Whatever. I’ll do this, only because I’m proving a point.”

“And also because you’re going to win us a hundred thousand dollars and lots of fame,” adds Jongin, grinning mischievously.

“Yes, that too.” Lu Han sighs. “I got a little too cocky back then, did I ever tell you that? Only 22 years old, and already Championship winner.” Lu Han hums, “I got ahead of myself, started training less, thinking I could make it with the skills I had. I was wrong. The constant evolution of fighters left me in the dust. I got humiliated at the last tournament I entered, and even you saw that one fight, back when you were still new.”

“But you’ve evolved too, now. Now, you’re a bloody good fighter, who’s going to kick ass in the tournament, and I’m going to be there to watch it all happen.” Jongin nudges him in the arm, and says, “Come on. Forget all of that, and move on.”

Lu Han shakes his head lightly, and quips, “Help me train?”

“Who else would, if not me? Okay, I know, Yixing, but still.” Jongin smiles affectionately. “See you, sharp ten.”

“I’ll be there,” promises Lu Han. He never goes back on his promises.

And at ten o’clock, not a minute more or less, they meet again.

 

 

 

 

 

_“We’re splitting EXO into two groups,” Joonmyun had pitched one day, and at first it sounded like the craziest idea ever. The majority of the group was way attached to the home scene, Jongin especially, and he was one of the first to sound out his opposition to the idea._

_Lu Han had stayed silent, just up till the moment where Baekhyun started listing down all the pros of going on the road to fight, and Zitao had done the opposite, and Lu Han stood up, chair scraping against the floor, gaining everyone’s attention._

_“I say we go for it,” said Lu Han quietly, “because we need the money.”_

_The table was silent for a moment, before Jongin said haltingly, “I never knew we were low on finances.”_

_“Only recently.” And Jongin knew oh too well that Lu Han was blaming himself for the lack in profit. “Listen, if half of us stay here, and half of us go out there, we can pool together enough to upkeep both the workshop and the bots, and hopefully keep us from starving. Twelve in a group, all in the home scene? Not gonna work anymore.”_

_“There’s not going to be rice on this table, or bots in this shop, if we keep at the pace we’re at right now,” murmured Wu Fan, and Minseok nodded in agreement._

_Joonmyun nodded as well, face set in a firm expression. “Settled then. Six on each team. Who wants home, and who wants the road?”_

_“Home,” murmured Yixing, and Zitao echoed the word, but Baekhyun chose otherwise, and so did Kyungsoo._

_Sehun chose the road, and Jongdae surprisingly picked home, and Joonmyun went, “I’ll go on the road. God knows these kids need someone to watch over them.”_

_Chanyeol looked as if he was having an internal debate with himself, but Baekhyun had pouted at him, and being his best friend, Chanyeol sighed. “Fine, road too.” Minseok picked home, simple as that. Wu Fan didn’t even need to choose; the workshop was his responsibilty and damn if he’d let it out of his sight for months on end._

_Jongin was about to open his mouth to say ‘home,’ when Lu Han caught his gaze, and it was one of worry. I need you to go with them, he’d mouthed, because you’re the best fighter we have, please. Lu Han added after a second, for me, do this for me._

_Something inside Jongin twisted painfully on the realisation that he’d wouldn’t get to see Lu Han for weeks if he did go off, but Lu Han’s words meant more than his own comfort. In the end, Jongin mutters, “Road,” and the road team whooped a little, on knowing that they got the most popular  fighter in the team._

_Lu Han grinned weakly, “I guess the rest of you are stuck with me, then.”_

_“We’re gonna need names though!” exclaimed Jongdae. “EXO something. We can’t both be EXO.”_

_“EXO Awesome and EXO Lame?” suggested Chanyeol cheekily._

_Yixing had just said, “Yeah, I don’t mind being EXO Awesome, since Lame suits you perfectly.”_

_“EXO-1 and EXO-2,” said Kyungsoo, and it was reasonable, until everybody realised that nobody wanted to be in a group called 2._

_Wu Fan muttered, “Might as well call it EXO Dumb and EXO Dumber and interchange the names every few months, since I still can’t tell which of you is the dumbest.”_

_The arguing over names continued, and the suggestions just kept getting stupider and stupider, like EXO-Ro and EXO-Bot, EXO Kit and EXO Kat (Zitao shot the idea down, saying that he’d be be hungry for Kit Kats forever every time he thought of the name, if they picked that one), and nobody knew where the suggestion for EXO Yes and EXO No came from (Wu Fan suspected Sehun, but it turned out to be Lu Han in the end; him and Baekhyun were attempting to see who could come up with the worst name)._

_Surprisingly, it was Minseok who came up with the best name in the end, and the simplest. “K and M,” he’d said, and prompted by the looks he got from the other members, he continued, “The road group can be K, for Korean, and the home group M, for Mandarin, since the majority staying back are Chinese, and the majority—okay, since all of you, going off are Korean. Better than 1 and 2, or Pokemon and Digimon or whatever the fuck you guys were suggesting earlier.”_

_“You know, I never thought you could come up with something better than those steamed buns of yours, but it seems that little Minseok here has done it again,” commented Jongdae, and he received a twack to the back of his head for that. Tension diffused, they got to talking about positions and new strategies, and the excitement in the air was a nice change compared to the usual everyday complacency._

_EXO-K and EXO-M celebrated their new beginnings with a couple of beers each, and of course, homemade baozi._

_Later that night, Lu Han had dragged Jongin off to the practice ring, hugged him like there was no tomorrow, and whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jongin. Thank you.”_

_“I’m going to miss you,” admitted Jongin, and his fingers curled into Lu Han’s jacket as he did. “You have no idea.”_

_Lu Han made a strange noise in his throat at that, but when Jongin pulled away to look at him, Lu Han was smiling his usual smile. “Tell you what,” said Lu Han, “every time you guys come back, we have a little training session. Just to see if either one of us is slacking. And it’ll be just the two of us.”_

_And Jongin smiled, because ‘just the two of us’ sounded perfectly great to him. “Great. That’s great. This is great, you’re great. You’re absolutely great. Great, great, great.”_

_Lu Han had chuckled. “I remember the first time I heard something like that. You beat my ass to the ground with that scuffed up bot of yours.”_

_“And I think I can do it again, if you’d let me,” threw back Jongin easily, and Lu Han had laughed loud, picking up the two controllers lying on a table by the ring._

_They sparred till three in the morning. Lu Han won._

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m going to buy Jongin the biggest ice cream in the world for this,” comments Jongdae, scribbling down the dates of the MLFC in his notebook.

“I don’t think he likes ice cream,” says Sehun. He stretches over and nicks Jongdae’s pen, drawing a little stick man with a sad face and what seems to be a cone with gloop on it, in the corner of the page.

“Who cares? Is that supposed to be Jongin, dear god, your drawing skills are awful… anyways, Lu Han is entering the championships, I’m going to buy ice fucking cream for everyone in the room!”

Chanyeol calls from across the room where he’s oiling his bot, “I want ice cream too!” He spills a bit of grease on the floor, and flying out from under one of the work tables, a screw hits him in the side of the head, making him yelp.

“Get mint chocolate!” says Kyungsoo. He bends under the table, and straightens back up. “And Wu Fan wants yam.”

“I’m just glad Lu Han’s finally doing this,” says Yixing from the practice ring, teaching Zitao’s bot some new combinations. Zitao agrees wholeheartedly, and dodges hurriedly when the bot swings around and nearly hooks him. “My bad, sorry.”

“Me too,” agrees Baekhyun. “Ice cream for everyone!” He squeaks, nearly getting hit by Zitao’s bot too. He turns to glare at Yixing, who smiles innocently and points at Zitao. The younger one grins nervously. Baekhyun’s eye twitches.

Lu Han appears at the door. “What’s this about ice cream?”

Jongin peers in from behind him. “Ice cream, ugh. Gross. Can we get that really awesome pudding from down the road instead?”

Sehun smiles smugly at Jongdae. “Told you.”

 

 

 

 

 

They arrive at the arena that’s been set for the first heats of the championship. The air is loud with cheers and excited chattering and already drunken bet-takers about who’s going to kick ass tonight, and incredibly loud music from huge amplifiers (“They’ve really got to stop playing the same song for every single tournament, just because the guy made a stupid video back in ’12 about fighting with mousebots…” mutters Wu Fan, and the speakers just blare louder).

Lu Han walks through the hallways with Chump following behind him, and the rest of EXO-M. K’s decided to go with him tomorrow instead for the next set of heats, so Lu Han won’t be able to see them tonight until the heats are over, but they’re already seated in the audience, and M will be taking their places tomorrow.

Yixing pats him on the shoulder, and says comfortingly, “Ignore anyone who tries to rife you up. You know they’re just scared.”

“Yeah, man. Future Championship winners, Lu Han and Chump, coming through!” hollers Zitao, and everyone laughs.

Lu Han grins nervously, and runs the program through his head again. One heat consisted of six matches, and there were three heats tonight. Lu Han would be going fourth for all of them, so that would be three matches altogether. Right. Three matches, no problem. If he wins all of his matches tonight, he only has to fight in one tomorrow. Lu Han breathes out slowly, watching the way the other contenders observe him as he makes his way to the back of the arena to wait to dunk it out. He doesn’t know their names, but he’s pretty sure they know his.This is home ground.

“We believe in you, Lu Han,” says Minseok, and the rest echo his sentiment, and Lu Han feels slightly better already, knowing that he’s got his team right behind him.

Wu Fan insists on doing some last minute checks, and as he does, Lu Han sneaks away to one of the arena entrances to peek at the ongoing matches. The second one of the first heat is already underway, and a big green bot is bashing the arm off a smaller grey one. Lu Han spots the K team sitting close to the stage, somewhere in the left wing of the arena, and he grins, seeing them mutter amongst themselves. Kyungsoo is probably going on about how terrible the mechanics on the grey one is to Joonmyun, and Chanyeol is likely busy placing bets with Baekhyun as they scan through the list of tonight’s matches, with Sehun tapping their bets into his phone.

Jongin is peering intently at the match though, and Lu Han knows that he’s itching to get out there one day and fight. Lu Han makes a mental note to sneak Jongin’s name into next year’s Championship signups, and he flits back to where M is now arguing about whether Chump’s head has been screwed in tight enough or not (“It’s fucking screwed on, I’m telling you  _it is_ ,” says Wu Fan, finally bringing out his scowl, and everyone hurriedly agrees with him).

“You ready, Chump?” whispers Lu Han to his bot a little later, as the fifth match is nearly halfway done, and he prepares to get into the ring. Chump doesn’t answer, he never does, he’s just a bot with a neat function and a smiley face that Minseok had drew on years ago with some paint, but Lu Han likes to believe that Chump knows just as much as he does that they’re going to get out there and bring those other losers to their knees. “Atta boy.”

The arena lights flash red and blue. “And returning from a near five-year slump, the once region-reknowned fighter finally brings out the meanest machine he’s wielded yet! In the blue corner,  _Chump!_ ”

Lu Han strides out with all the confidence he can muster, spits out an insult at the opposing bot’s fighter, and screams multiple jabs and crosses and hooks into his mic, completely taking out the other bot in one round.

He laughs, feeling adrenaline surge through his veins, and he chances a glance up at Jongin, who grins back at him, sharing the same pounding excitement.

Lu Han is back in the game.

 

 

 

 

 

“Did you see that? Did you fucking see that?” Nobody’s seen Yixing this animated in a long time. “That was a genius move there in the third match, Lu Han, with the philly shell, god, that other guy didn’t even see it coming!”

“Any more of those compliments and Lu Han’s head is going to burst with the way you’re fueling his ego,” says Jongin with a grin, and the rest of them laugh.

“Man, I won so much cash today, you wouldn’t believe it,” says Baekhyun happily, and Chanyeol sulks, being on the losing end to their bets. “Sehun, thanks bro, you’re so getting forty percent of Chanyeol’s money for telling me all those stats beforehand!”

“What—wait, Sehun, you did  _not!_  Unfair! I would’ve given you  _forty-five percent_  of Baekhyun’s money!”

As Chanyeol begins to chase Sehun to their cars, Joonmyun turns to Lu Han and clasps him on the shoulder. “But seriously, great job tonight.”

Lu Han grins at all of them, and as they reach the lot where their cars and the truck is parked, Jongin sidles up behind Lu Han to whisper in his ear, “That was great. You’re great. Great, great, great.”

“That line doesn’t work on me anymore,” replies Lu Han, but it’s teasing, and Jongin laughs, sending a soft breeze along the back of Lu Han’s neck, making him shiver. “Practice?”

“Better be there,” and that’s all Jongin says before slipping off to one car, where Kyungsoo and Zitao are waiting for him. Lu Han gazes after him, and wonders how he’s ever going to shove these feelings back where they came from.

 

 

 

 

 

For the next few weeks, the championship rages on.

More and more bots get tossed out of the league, some pulled out due to maintenance issues, and others reigning victorious in the heats. The quarterfinals are intense, and Lu Han ends up having to pull out most of Yixing’s best strategies on a second’s notice, regretting the fact that most of his best plays have been used, and most of the other fighters know his fighting style by now.

He skims through the semis without any difficulty, though; perhaps because he drew the long straw this time around and all the tougher fighters are awaiting him in the finals.

There are only five bots left including his now. Lu Han knows it’s going to be tough to win, seeing these other bots. Technologically advanced, with all the latest updates. He looks at Chump and sometimes he sees chunks of scrap metal, put together to withstand blows. But then he remembers that Chump’s lasted three years fighting other bots, and he thinks that maybe they could actually do this.

He has a week in between the semis and the finals, so he immerses himself into training, not wanting to repeat the same mistakes from back then. Lu Han would nearly forget to do all else, if not for his team. Wu Fan and Kyungsoo, fixing up Chump every time a bolt flew loose or a piece of the bot fell off; Minseok and Zitao and Chanyeol force-feeding him every four hours or so (“I’m not hungry,” insists Lu Han, and then his stomach decides that no, it is, and rumbles loudly. He looks sheepishly at the others); Yixing and Baekhyun constantly creating new strategies to counter others and passing them on to him whenever he’s exhausted all the fights he knows; Sehun and Jongdae and Joonmyun secretly handling all the publicity that he’s getting (“The press is going wild,” says Jongdae one night, “an ex-champion back on a rise? It’s the first time”).

And then there’s Jongin.

“Come on, faster,  _faster,_  your footwork is getting sloppy!” Lu Han barks out another set of commands, and Chump bobs and weaves, and sends a right hook to Hardhead’s shoulder. Jongin flicks a switch on his controller and inputs a command, and the sparring bot begins to move slightly quicker. “Lu Han, move him!”

Lu Han grits his teeth and sends Chump out to pressure the sparring bot into the corner, and punch out a flurry of jabs. It still doesn’t satisfy Jongin, who’s calling, “Watch your left side, if there’s a Southpaw in the final, you’re going to be dead meat.”

In a way, Lu Han’s glad that Jongin’s being tough on him. He’s the only one who hasn’t tried to tell him to take a break, or go easier on himself. Jongin gets it. He gets why Lu Han is trying so hard, and he’s grateful for that.

So, as thanks, Lu Han bashes the sparring bot until it’s lying on the floor of the practice ring, and by then, he’s out of breath from hollering commands at Chump.

Jongin skids around the ring and grabs his hand. “Come on, you need to sit down after that.”

Too tired to protest, Lu Han allows Jongin to lead him to the edge of the lifted platform and sit him down. Jongin disappears for a minute and comes back to where Lu Han is, two bottles of water in his hands.

“Thanks,” says Lu Han, and he downs half the bottle in one go. Practicing like this is really taking a toll on him, and he doesn’t mind a break around now.

“So,” says Jongin after a while of sitting in silence, “tomorrow’s the big day. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Lu Han watches Jongin tilt the plastic bottle to drink, observing the little bit of water that trickles down the side of his mouth, down his neck. “Can’t believe it, almost. The finals. Haven’t seen the inside of the stadium for years now.”

They sit in silence for a little while longer.

“Let’s have one more fight,” suggest Jongin, and Lu Han agrees, and he’s about to pick up his headset from where he left it, when Jongin’s voice comes from behind him, “without the bots.”

Lu Han spins around slowly. “Uh. Are you okay? Do you need more water? Because I think I just heard you challenge me to a proper fight.”

Jongin’s grin is scrawled lazily across his face. “You heard me. Mitts on, no headgear, best out of three.”

“No headgear? And risk bruising that pretty face of yours?” teases Lu Han. “You’re on. Come on, get in the ring.”

He tosses Jongin a pair of black mitts, and feels around in a cupboard for his pair of old mitts, white with stains that just won’t come off anymore. He tugs them on and faces Jongin. “Ready?” asks Jongin, and he’s just leaning against the ropes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” says Lu Han, and he darts forward as fast as lightning, getting a light punch in to Jongin’s right shoulder. “Come on,” calls Lu Han, “come on.”

And Jongin does, weaving in to send a rising uppercut to Lu Han’s middle, before taking a half-step back and throwing a cross in. Lu Han dodges that one, and parries the rest of Jongin’s flurries.

“Defense is boring,” singsongs Jongin, and he slips past a jab to return a swift one of his own.

Lu Han sweeps in and pins Jongin into a corner, chanting, “Three-two-three, body-head-body,” as he barely pokes Jongin with his gloves, making Jongin laugh slightly, and bob out of the corner, sending a light smack to the back of Lu Han’s ear.

Lu Han watches how deft Jongin moves, practically making it a dance. His feet pad circles around Lu Han, and his punches are lighter than Lu Han’s. But his defense is terrible, thinks Lu Han playfully, as he shoots one cross after another to Jongin’s chest, completely moving past Jongin’s cover-ups.

Again, Lu Han takes the opportunity to corner Jongin, and he says breathlessly, “Give up yet?” He’s stopped throwing punches, and it’s only when Jongin laughs slightly that Lu Han realises just how close their faces are. He didn’t even realise it when he was pinning Jongin in. “I—“ he starts, eyes flickering to Jongin’s, but he’s making no move away from the younger man.

Jongin stares back, and out of habit, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Uhm.”

“I just…” says Lu Han, but who is he kidding? He lowers his hands, lets them hang by his sides, but doesn’t move from where he is. “Jongin.”

It’s the way Jongin whispers, “ _Lu Han_ ,” that makes him lean in to press his lips against Jongin’s, just a swift kiss, and he retracts immediately, murmuring apologies over and over, until Jongin says more firmly, “Lu Han.”

Lu Han freezes, and this time, Jongin’s the one who takes the opportunity to kiss Lu Han, a little more urgently than Lu Han did, and Lu Han responds with much eagerness, leaning into the kiss, letting Jongin sling his arms around Lu Han’s neck. Jongin’s mouth is soft and pliant against his, and Lu Han thinks, oh, how didn’t he ever see that Jongin liked him too, but all those thoughts are swept away when he feels Jongin mouthing at his lower lip, teeth nipping lightly.

The room feels even quieter than before when they finally pull away, and so, Lu Han says, “So.”

“So,” replies Jongin, lips quirking up into a smile. “Want to do that again?”

“Without the gloves, this time,” says Lu Han, and they burst into laughter, feeling like two teenagers all over again, before leaning in to steal a couple more kisses from each other.

The mitts finally come off a few minutes later, and Lu Han tugs Jongin away from the practice room, their fingers linking together for once. They’re exhausted and covered in sweat from head to toe, but Lu Han doesn’t really care, Jongin is here and they’re finally seeing each other properly for what they are, and it’s fucking glorious.

Then, Jongin suggests supper and a mutual shower, and Lu Han decides that maybe it might be love at four-hundred and seventy-third sight.

 

 

 

 

 

_“I want to learn,” said little Jongin, only thirteen and already in love with the sport. He peeked over the edge of the platform, and asked his father, “Teach me, pleaseeeeeeee.” He’d been taken to the local sparring facility downtown, and he was amazed by the sheer size and capability of the bots._

_“Okay, come on.” Jongin followed where his father was pointing. “See the bot over there? See how his fighter is making him send out a quick punch, with his forward hand? That’s called a jab.”_

_“Jab,” repeated Jongin. “What’s next?”_

_“A cross,” said his father, “is when he uses the hand that’s not the forward one, in this case his left hand, to punch, straight forward, with as much power as he can put into the punch.”_

_“Cross, okay.” Jongin watched the bot fall to the floor when it got punched again, and he said excitedly, “What’s that one called?”_

_“The first one’s an uppercut, where he punched upwards towards the chin, and the second one is a hook, a sort of punch when you send your hand flying in an arc, your forward hand.”_

_“Uppercut, hook. Woah,” said Jongin, and he glanced up at his father. “I want to be like those guys. Fighting like that.”_

_His father had laughed, and ruffled his hair. “Maybe, when you get a little older. I’ll get you a bot of your own.”_

_Jongin nodded, eyes wide. He couldn’t wait till the day came._

 

 

 

 

 

“Finals, finals, finals!” roars the announcer over the crowds, milling into the stadium. “Are you ready to see the showdown of your lives, ladies and gentlemen?”

Huge LED screens flash the pictures and names of the bots remaining in the league. The moment Chump appears on the screen, with the EXO name stamped proudly across its breastplate, all of the group screams, attracting strange looks from the crowd.

“That’s our baby up there on that screen!” mock-cries Jongdae, and Lu Han rolls his eyes. Chump follows behind the group, the group of twelve that’s decided to brandish banners and signboards tonight, saying things like ‘ _chump oppa is best oppa_ ’ and ‘l _uhan-ge u r su cool._ ’ Lu Han wonders why he even brought them along.

“I told you no chatspeak on the banners!” cries Baekhyun.

“Well,  _excuuuuuse_  me, smarty-pants, we can’t all spell as good as you, okay!”

“You went to college, Chanyeol!”

“I went to  _collage_  class, not college! You’ve seen my scrapbooking, you asshole!”

Wu Fan murmurs to Joonmyun, “I don’t envy you a single bit.”

Joonmyun sulks.

 

 

 

 

 

“Come on, come on,” murmurs Yixing in Lu Han’s ear as him and Wu Fan fuss over Chump hurriedly, trying to get as many repairs in before the bell rings. It’s the fourth match of the finals, and Chump is up against a huge bot, black and red paint all over, and glaring yellow eyes. It’s an S03 model, just one generation above Chump’s S02, and Lu Han’s exhausted almost all his strategies dealing with the other bot’s immense strength. “You can do this. Don’t underestimate the guy, he’s bigger and stronger, but Chump can deal damage if you move him faster.”

“I’m trying,” hisses Lu Han, and he pushes the circuit board back into Chump, switching the shadow function on. “Fuck coming in third, I did not get this far to come in third.”

“Are you serious?” hisses Baekhyun, who’s been watching the fight with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were saving that for the last match!”

“I’ve got no choice!” snaps Lu Han, and he gets up, making Chump straighten up as well. As he slips down the side of the ring, he catches Jongin’s eye, and Jongin mouths, fast feet. Lu Han nods, and sets his sights on the other bot, imagining himself in Chump’s place. Ever since Wu Fan figured out a way to set the shadow function to work without having Chump look at Lu Han, it’s been tons easier for Lu Han. All Lu Han has to do is wear some bands around his wrists and ankles, and tada. He is Chump. Chump is him. Lu Han ala Chump. Be one with the Chumpster—

“Take it easy!” says Yixing over the noise the crowd is making, and he’s frowning, “remember not to overdo it! You still have two matches to go, if you win this one!”

“If!” shouts back Lu Han, and the fourth round begins immediately with a ring of the bell, and the other bot clambering heavily into Chump’s space.

Lu Han fights against an invisible opponent beside the platform, teeth gritted, and when the other fighter realises what he’s doing, he begins to yell, “Dammit, man! I told you not to uninstall that fucking function!” at his teammate, realising that Lu Han’s speed completely outclasses their bot.

The match lasts another two rounds before Chump is declared the winner. The screen flashes up the other two robots remaining in the finals, and the announcer screams their names across the stadium.

Lu Han slumps against the platform, breathless.

 

 

 

 

 

_“No, no, no!” cried Lu Han, watching his bot fall to the floor. He glanced up at the screens just as the bell rang, and the opposing bot’s name flashed across them._

_He lost, and in the semifinals, no less. How could he have lost? Lu Han gripped at his headset and tore it off, fuming mad at himself._

_“Told you, you’d lose,” jeered the fighter behind the winning bot, and Lu Han ignored him._

_Never again was he showing his face in this ring._

_This was his last match here._

 

 

 

 

 

It’s his last match.

Lu Han had returned the function to normal for the one before, but decided on turning it back on for the last and final match of the night. If he was going to do this, he’d damn well do it properly.

Behind where Lu Han, Baekhyun, Yixing and Jongin are running tactics, the rest of the group is singing horribly offkey to the tune of “We Are The Champions.”

“ _And he’ll, keep on fightiiiiiiing, till the end!_ ” gurgles Chanyeol, and the three behind him imitate electric guitar noises. “ _Luuuu Han’s the champion, Chuuuuump is the champion—_ “

“I don’t know them,” says Kyungsoo loudly to whomever will listen. “I really don’t.”

Joonmyun asks Wu Fan, “Lend me one of your tools?”

“ _Noooo time for looosers, ‘cause EXO’s the champiooooon, my frieeeeee_ —holy crap, was that a flying wrench—“

“Thank you,” says Lu Han, and he turns back to continue his discussion. “But seriously, look at that guy! If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn that bot was the one who won the 2017 Championship, what’s his name, Triton…”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s Triton’s little bot brother,” says Baekhyun, “Poseidon. Man, these people really don’t know how to name their bots.”

“Fuck,” says Lu Han, because the team they’re opposing is one of the toughest to beat, and also a fan-favourite. Their bots are famous for being bulky, wielding tons of damage in one blow, and fast. Practically indestructible. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair and exhales deeply. How is he going to beat this guy?

Jongin appears in front of him, and grabs his hand. “Calm down. You’re going to do great.”

“That’s what you always say,” whispers Lu Han weakly, and he grins. “Great, great, great.”

“And I always mean it.” Jongin gives him a bright smile. “This whole thing is great. Chump’s great. Winning is great. But you? You’re great, great, great. You’re the greatest.”

Lu Han gazes back at him with some renewed confidence. “Thanks.”

And Jongin figures, why not boost that confidence a little bit more?

He yanks Lu Han into a bruising kiss, right there and then, ignoring the surprised looks on the other members’ faces, and kisses him  _hard_. Lu Han thinks,  _oh_ , because the way Jongin is licking into his mouth with his tongue is making his knees weak, and Lu Han slides his fingers down Jongin’s collar, pressing back against Jongin. Their teeth are clacking together, but he ignores that in favour of Jongin’s hand settling at the back of his neck and pulling his face nearer.

Just as Lu Han thinks he might keel over, Jongin pulls away, a deviant smile on his lips. “You’ll get more of this when you win,” he purrs, voice low and husky, and Lu Han can’t help biting his lip, eyes not wanting to move from Jongin’s face.

Jongin steps away from Lu Han, grinning cheekily at the rest of the members, and calls loudly, “I’ll have you know, I’m great in bed,” ignoring the scandalized looks on Wu Fan and Joonmyun’s faces.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” replies Lu Han, and he laughs when Jongdae whistles at him, followed by Chanyeol and Minseok’s catcalls.

“Finally,” says Yixing, and he rolls his eyes. “Dancing around each other for years, I was wondering when that would happen. Anyway, ready to go?”

“Damn right I am.” Lu Han adjusts his wristbands.

He’s never been more ready.

 

 

 

 

 

The bell rings.

Off Lu Han starts, going on the offensive already. He wants to be able to get a few good punches in before he’s reduced to playing the defensive field, and he manages a couple of strong crosses before Chump’s pinned into the corner, arms up to block the incoming flurries.

“Get him out of there!” shouts Yixing, and Lu Han is trying to, but it’s nearly impossible with the way the other bot is serving jabs and hooks left and right. Finally, Lu Han sees an opening, and gets Chump to weave out and send a flying punch to Poseidon’s head, following it up with a right hook.

Round after round passes, and they’re up to their knees in the eighth round, with Chump taking continuous beating after beating, when suddenly, Jongin gets up from where he’s sitting, to yell at Lu Han, “Rope-a-dope, you idiot!”

Poseidon rolls in just as Lu Han gets Chump out of the corner, and backs into the ropes behind. Immediately, Chump has his arms up, taking all the blows that Poseidon deals him, leaning back into the ropes to absorb most of the damage.

“Remind me to tell you how much I love you after this,” shouts Lu Han at Jongin, and he grins, watching the other bot swing continuously at Chump, watching its arms begin to tire out from the flurries, watching the other fighter believe that he’s winning.

The second Poseidon starts to slow down, Lu Han’s got Chump back into position, and starts going right-left-right, parrying any incoming blows and shoving back twice as many of his own. He can see Poseidon’s framework begin to shudder, and Lu Han knows he just needs a few more well-aimed crosses to end it.

One uppercut sends Poseidon reeling, and Chump lands a solid left cross to its head, sending it slamming down to the ground.

The crowd begins to countdown, and Lu Han holds his breath. The bot looks like it’s not going to get up.

It’s only been eight rounds, though. Has he really managed it?

“Eight, nine…” The announcer booms, “ _ten!_  Looks like we have a new winner, folks! It’s Chump and Lu Han, of team EXO-M!”

_Holy fuck._

Lu Han, still stunned by the victory, barely even registers when all the EXO members swamp him in a gigantic hug, squeezing all the air out of him. Someone pulls him into the boxing ring, he doesn’t know who, and the beautiful golden Championship cup is pressed into his hands.

He stares down at it, and sees the words, ‘ _Major League Fighter Championships 2019, Champion_ ,’ engraved on it, and he grins at the bot behind him. “We did it, Chump.”

“Mainly you, though,” comes a voice in his ear, and it’s Jongin, and before he can get another word in, Lu Han is already sweeping him into a kiss, in front of everyone. He’s distantly aware that the screens are flashing with their faces on them, but he doesn’t really care. The rest of the team cheer madly, and Lu Han smiles.

He’s won more than the Championship, tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

“Eat more rice,” says Wu Fan.

“Jongdae promised ice cream,” says Minseok, attempting to shield his bowl from the incoming pair of chopsticks, holding a piece of meat in between them. “If you keep stuffing us, we’ll be too full later.”

“Anyways,” says Joonmyun, waving his spoon at the rest of the table. “As I was saying, we still need to fix up the place a little, now that we actually have the funds to do so.”

“I want more worktables,” calls Kyungsoo immediately, “new customers have been flooding the place recently, and we can’t hold that many bots.”

Wu Fan finally gets a fishball into Sehun’s bowl, and adds, “And maybe we could expand the practice ring, or open up one more beside it.”

“EXO’s finally back on the map,” sighs Baekhyun happily, and he stabs his fork into a carrot. “Have we mentioned how much we love you, Lu Han?”

Lu Han just laughs. “Only five times a day since the tournament.”

Yixing leans over the table. “So, any plans to join the next one, now?”

“Well, I was thinking…” Everyone turns their attention to Lu Han, who hums, and continues, “maybe we should get Jongin to join, next year.”

Jongin says, “Nope.”

“And why not?”

“Maybe the person who sent in Lu Han’s name this year should join next year,” suggests Jongin easily. Lu Han’s eyebrows raise. He still hasn’t found out who it was.

“Hem,” coughs Wu Fan suddenly, and everyone turns to look at him. “Need I remind you, I’m just a mechanic after all…”

“It was  _you!_ ” A fishball sails past Wu Fan’s head, and he makes a ‘meep’ sound, disappearing under the table. “Come back here, you traitor!” Lu Han nearly knocks over Zitao and two chairs in his attempt to get at Wu Fan. “Out of all the people in the room, it was you! And all along I’d thought it was Jongin!”

“What?” Jongin has a mock-hurt expression on his face. “Why me? I thought it was Jongdae!”

“I had my money on Baekhyun, actually,” says Jongdae.

Baekhyun puts his hands up. “Hey, don’t look at me. I was hoping it would be Zitao. It’s always the quiet ones, y’know?”

Sehun makes a ‘tsk’ sound. “Cough up, boys, looks like I won the bet.”

Half the table pulls out their wallets.

“You actually bet on me?” asks Wu Fan sadly, and dodges a flying chopstick. “You suck.”

“You suck more,” says Lu Han, and he flings a piece of salad at Wu Fan, “for signing me up without me knowing.”

“Actually, I think Lu Han sucks more,” says Chanyeol, looking deep in thought, “considering that he and Jongin are actually fucking, and Lu Han looks more like a —“

“ _Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Park Chanyeol!_ ”

“I don’t know them,” says Kyungsoo loudly to nobody in particular. “I really don’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

_fin._


End file.
